


Solus

by neela



Series: Una [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Community: apocalypse_kree, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hallucinations, Implied Relationships, Loneliness, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 17:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9502772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neela/pseuds/neela
Summary: Living alone in a bunker after the end of the world.Written for apocalypse_kree 2016.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Stargate characters or the universe. It belongs to MGM and the Sci-Fi channel.

**Prompt:** (215, Any) Any, honestly, she had never expected to hear another voice again. 

* * *

**SOLUS**

_Latin: alone_

 

Sam opened her eyes. The same dim-lit ceiling stared back at her. She turned her head, taking in the rest of the room. Multiple bunk beds, all made up and ready to go. Never been used. Only hers.  
  
With a groan, she rolled out of the lower bunk, the concrete floor cold beneath her bare feet. The whole thing reminded her of the Academy, of endless drills of ABC warfare – Atomic, Biological, Chemical. It’d been the Cold War going hot they’d practiced for back then. No one could’ve known it wouldn’t be the Soviets pushing the button in the end, or the Americans.  
  
Some days, she wished for those simpler days.  
  
Without looking, Sam reached out to the side and flipped on the small lamp attached to her bunk bed. The light was bright, glaring even, and she squinted down and away from it as she leaned over and pulled out the footlocker from beneath the bed.  
  
She didn’t know why she bothered keeping things clean. Maybe it was those old drills again. Maybe just being  _here_  was reverting her back to a pre-SGC state. In any case, she pulled on a woollen undershirt and leggings, then the drab-coloured jumpsuit and matching socks. The marching boots were next, shiny and newly polished, before she stood and ambled over to the closest mirror.  
  
There was no denying it: she looked like the end of the world had really happened. Every line on her sunken, drawn face was a life lost, a grief unspoken, and those dull, blue eyes reminded her of each one. Every member of her team. Every member of her family. Every member of the SGC. Even…  
  
Sam blinked her eyes, stopping the thought. They couldn’t lie: she was alone.

 

 

 

* * *

  
There was literally nothing on the telly and the Cold War bunker only had an old VCR with some assorted 1980s tapes stacked next to it. The only remotely good one was Star Wars. Well, at least until she saw the Death Star blow and decided the movie was ruined now. The heroic victory wasn’t so heroic anymore.  
  
She read instead. Manuals, cheesy romance, longwinded epics – anything in the small library. No one had thought to update it since the 80s, but she didn’t care. Anything was good enough to take her mind away since her body wouldn’t be able to leave this place.  
  
Sometimes, she wondered why she still bothered staying alive. Maybe it was the General’s last order to her. Maybe she felt she owed them – her team, her family – something for their sacrifice. Or maybe there was something in her that still couldn’t accept reality, who still held out hope that this was just some FUBAR virtual reality or mirror universe or time dilation field or whatever else that could somehow be fixed.  
  
Not that she could fix it, though. She was stuck. Literally and completely stuck. The air outside was too toxic to survive, even in the EVA suits available in this old command bunker. Maybe if she’d had a Tok’ra, she could’ve made it, but there weren’t any handy ones lying around. This place was too old for that.  
  
_Stop it._  
  
Sam clenched her fists around the flimsy paperback dust jacket. The title  _War and Peace_  stared back at her from the top of the pages. The book already showed signs of wear and tear. Despite its length, she’d read it multiple times. She knew why, but she tried not to think about it. Thinking about it was dangerous. Could lead her places she wasn’t sure her mind was able to handle anymore.  
  
Inhaling deeply, Sam loosened her grip and stroked the back of the book instead. The words floated all over the pages, blurring before her eyes, and she knew it was time to put it away.

 

 

* * *

  
“I miss you.” Her voice was sore, dry, unused to actually speaking aloud anymore.  
  
His voice still sounded vibrant, smooth,  _alive_. “I know.”  
  
Sam squeezed her burning eyes shut. “You’re not real.”  
  
“Not too sure about that. I feel pretty real.” Out in the room, she heard footsteps walk around as if testing them out. “Ten fingers, two eyes, all limbs in place. Oh, hold on…” A soft pat. “Yep, all accounted for.”  
  
“I’m hallucinating.” Sam opened her eyes again, looking up at the same dim-lit ceiling as every other night. “I’m not eating or sleeping well, and I’ve been cooped up in here for months. It was bound to happen.”  
  
“Well, going insane isn’t what it’s cracked up to be,” he said, seating himself on the opposite bunk bed. “If it’s gonna happen anyway, why not take it all the way out? Tin foil hats, covering the walls with numbers and equations that only make sense to you, rave about the apocalypse… Or maybe just build the world’s biggest tent fort out of all these bed sheets.”  
  
Sam chuckled at the sheer ridiculousness of it all and ended up shaking her head, tears spilling from her eyes. “Please stop.”  
  
“Bet you could make one of those practice dummies that punches back, and you could have yourself a pillow fight.”  
  
“Stop.” Sobbing now, Sam peered in direction of the voice, her smile gone. As expected, there was no one there. Just the ghost of a face she hadn’t seen in months, wearing the same lop-sided smirk as when she’d told him not to go wrecking any puddle jumpers while she was back on Earth. “You’re not real, John.”  
  
“So? Who cares?” In the shadows, his voice was soft, intimate. “It’s only us here, Sam.”  
  
Sam bit her lip and swallowed a sob. The next day, she built a tent fort.  
  
**FIN**


End file.
